I wonder if I can write this history, or if on every page there will be some sneaking show of a bitterness I thought long dead. I think myself cured of all spite, but when I touch pen to paper, the hurt of a boy bleeds out with the sea-spawned ink, until I suspect each carefully formed black letter scabs over some ancient scarlet wound.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 568 | 2025-02-02 11:02:06 | 50.02 | 95.9% |
| 243 | 2024-12-31 14:46:20 | 55.69 | 97.3% |
| 229 | 2024-12-31 06:47:01 | 46.30 | 95% |